The River Follower
by creyzi4zb12
Summary: An orc follower of Sune? Is it really possible? Retouched . Please review and add comments.. :D
1. Prologue The Dawn

The story is set in the time where Myth Drannor is still alive, and ruled by elves. It dates a few ten years after the Mythal was created. Anyway, let's not focus on that, my fanfic is focused on an unknown kingdom known as Corylon, it is located somewhere in the middle of the continent, welcoming trade relations with other kingdoms of humans and elves.

All products of my story are made up, except for the fact that I copied the setting of Faerun for a story. We are also able to read some few famous characters popping out in my story like Elminster or the Shrinshee…etc. etc. etc…(or other epic npcs)

Corylon City

Sentara Sune High Priestess

Gustav Gonghammer General of Corylon's forces

Skurai Orc prisoner

Morak Deathsong Orc hordeboss

Rurak Mayor of Corylon

The River Follower

Sample:

Skurai's body went rigid. He had hoped his face didn't betray him. He hoped the new tears welling in his eyes would be attributed to the pricking of the needles on his forehead. He looked around the room and on his green skinned reflection in the mirror that he once thought was beautiful, and then allowed his real thoughts to come out and consume his heritage as an orc. Out they came, one by one. The place was tacky as hell, the man was hideous, and the beautiful tattoo being inked on his forehead was the ugliest thing in the world.

PROLOGUE:

Sentara walked in the marble platforms of the temple, she wore a sleeveless silken white gown fitted tight to her body. A bit of cut came out on the side in a lower portion of the robe showing off her legs. Her black hair seemed as if it had been combed every minute past her life. Her white skin bristled with a little bit of redness, as if her entire body seemed to blush a little. Her blue eyes stared imperatively on the high-priests of the temple of Tyr. She wore an imperative look that of a queen, and even those haughty gestures she made was unable to hide the gentleness in her face.

Women who wore similar robes followed on her back. The priests of Tyr could well figure out that this woman was the superior one from the ladies marching inside judging from the fact that she wore the heart shaped pendant which was emblazoned with tiny jewels on its sides, and the circlet she wore on her forehead, this lovely woman they were staring at right now was definitely the high priestess of Sune.

Sentara raised a hand to her left, and the women that followed her stopped. Then as she took a bow to the high priests in front of her the women on her back knelt. "My priestesses have come here as you have asked Chelon." She speaks those words in a friendly way as she finishes her bow.

The priests of Tyr could not help but stare at the beauty carved in this woman. She was beautiful beyond all odds, and her posture carried with her an aura of grace as she moved in the platform swaying her hips womanly. She was the high priestess of Sune, the Lady Firehair the goddess of 

everything that is beautiful, of love and of passion. If it weren't for Chelon's words the apprentices would never have taken away their sight of the lady.

"Fair met Sentara! Your help will be most beneficial to us, the healing powers your priestesses carry is one of the best there is in our forces." Chelon's words were a little calm. It was a sign that his old age was coming up to him.

Chelon had always looked old anyway. There was a huge sign of baldness in his head. Covered by his thin white hair that hangs to almost every side of his temples, the high priest's appearance seemed more of an old philosopher rather than a battling high priest of Tyr. But despite the flashy appearance his reputation carried an aura of power, boosting up the confidence of the two priests that sat on his side.

"My priestesses only aid your men because the enemy is something that's value could not be changed." Sentara's voice was calm and friendly, but there was something imperative and demanding about the tone that she carried right now compared to before, "If the enemy were men, and if the battle was a lasting one, I would not send Sune's magic to heal the wounded of your men, for they will only bring death upon themselves if they go back to the battle."

"I shall not forget that my lady." Chelon replied.

"Then it is done my good friend, I just hope that this battle would finish itself quickly. And that less death would come to the citizens of Corylon." Sentara replied back.

"Do not fear my lady. For my scouts have already predicted the plans of our enemy, and this defense will end up as another victory to our city with less of our casualties..thanks to ye." Gustav Gonghammer suddenly spoke in the audience. He was standing beside Chelon and his two priests.

Sentara and the other apprentices could not help but stare at the wonder carved in this man's legend. He was the general of the military forces of Corylon, the epitome of justice and purity in the city's influence. He had survived hundreds of battle in his life, and all of those battles were victories carved by his unstoppable prowess in the field of warfare.

Starting his legend in becoming a captain of Cormyr's infantry elite when he was twelve, and continuing it today, when the army of Morak Deathsong had marched to destroy their beloved city, Gustav had won the trust and the hearts of many people of Corylon, Sentara included, and even she, as a high priestess of a goddess of love could not help but wonder at the presence of this man. She did well enough to hide this feeling inside her though, for they were inside the Temple of Tyr, and at the same time, the courtroom of Corylon.

The apprentices could not help but envy at the sight of this great man. Even the presence of Rurak the mayor of Corylon in the audience seemed to diminish from the grace Gustav carried by his mere presence alone.

The priestesses of Sune tried to get a sneak peek on the man as they bowed low but found his position too high on the stairs above. Sentara on the other hand gave a calm smile to Gustav, she held out her hands, then placed its forearm on her navel giving another bow to the royal court.

Rurak the mayor of Corylon sat on a wooden chair beside Chelon and his two priests, the chairs circled a huge marble table which Gustav's plans on the defense of the city was laid. He turned to regard Sentara and gave her another warm smile. "Please do accompany us high priestess that you may know of the plans of our defense." Rurak spoke. Gustav turned to face his master and pulled a chair to allow the high priestess to seat.

Sentara waved to the court room by raising her right palm. She placed her chin high and spoke. "Nay, my place is not in the battlefield. But I assure you that our aid is open to Corylon. My priestesses must hurry and prepare our prayers and spells for the night, we shant waste time in listening to something we were not created to perform."

Rurak gave the high priestess a warm smile and raised his hand as soon as Sentara lowered hers. "Then go. Your mirth towards the aid of Corylon is always admired my priestess." He then turns to Gustav and gave a slight nod, indicating that the General should now be back in his seat.

As Sentara and her priestesses turned to leave the temple, the audience of Corylon all turned their heads on the group. Their movements were tantalizing and magnificent.

These women were one of the biggest prides of Corylon. Aside from possessing magic strong enough to battle against a major city of Faerun the priestesses of Sune were all extremely beautiful. They could not imagine if one these women would fall to the hands of the orc hoards that scoured Corylon. They would fight to the death to defend their precious treasure.

Some of the people in the audiences were lucky enough to be the husband of a fellow priestess in the temple of Sune, farmers, bakers or maybe even innkeepers. These citizens whose prowess came not from battle change their ways of life just for a time being, it is because of the power the priestesses carry, to change a skill from lifestyle into warfare, only so that they could defend their beautiful wives, which was the symbol of their success, or perhaps, the greatest thing that had ever happened to them. And so, most of the people of Corylon swore, that they would fight the orc hoard of Morak Deathsong, even if they were not born to do it.

As Gustav sat back on his chair looking at the eyes of several officials of Corylon, including Chelon and the mayor Rurak, he couldn't help but mention the danger the orc hoard carried. Morak Deathsong's army had outnumbered them twenty to one, and even the great general found it painful to create a promise to his priestess, a promise of victory with little casualties. But in reality, he wasn't sure, he was never sure.

--

Skurai skidded along the vast encampment set up in the hills of Duloin, a few kilometers away from the walled city of Corylon.

Babblings and shouts would be heard in all his two ears. Most of them could not be understood. Most of them were the painful screams of agony as orcs in the encampment fought one another. Such an act was common to orc culture, the green skinned brutes always found it hard to get along with each other.

Nobody dared try to attack him though. Everyone feared him.

As a lieutenant in the army of Morak Deathsong, Skurai had earned the reputation to be one of the most powerful orcs in the hoard. His muscles were well built; the same as any orc muscle was built. The only difference was that his height covered most of the bloated body an orc has, making him look a lot slimmer than any orcs. His muscles were very well toned, shaping along perfectly, and standing firm as hard as a rock due to the training he received as a champion of Morak Deathsong, Great Warboss of the Deathsong Hoard. He's height proved that to be tall, in fact too tall for an orc. His seven foot height towered even the great Morak Deathsong himself. And perhaps this was one of the reasons why the orcs in the hoard feared him. His skin was colored lightly gray, making him seem more like an ordinary orc. Two big tusks bulged out in both molars of his mouth, pointing up towards his dark greedy reptilian eyes. His high chin made him look vile, and with the creepy combination of his eyes, he seemed more of a lunatic than a proper war lieutenant, but to the orc's culture that was too common. His hair was extremely long (part of orc fashion), it ran down his back, bulging out to almost all sides of the back of his neck like spikes.

He tried to walk his way towards the amassing crowd. There he would encounter hits in his shoulder from another orc's shoulder. Bumps were very common in this hoard since their number was more than legion, and retiring from a hoard was not very common among hoards.

The army that Skurai was part of socialized in the plains, it was worse than a market, it seemed like the orcs of Morak Deathsong and Skurai were fishes, all hauled into a huge net, tacky as hell, and as crowded as an ant's nest.

The purpose of an orc hoard is to ravage and pillage everything on their sight for land, conquest and power. They would never stop their destructive wake, pillaging one town after the other until the numbers of the hoard reduced to something incapable of pillages. Only then would the remaining hoard members retire. Only then would the orcs dwell peacefully, mating among orc women or other female races of Faerun rapidly like maggots. Then when the numbers of their offspring's become too big for their family to supply food with, they form another hoard and start off pillaging villages again until their numbers reduced again. Such was the life of an orc like Skurai.

Not too many orcs know of this lifestyle. All they did was go along with the flow of massacre and fighting, realizing the orc's hoard cycle of life only moments later when the hoard that he had belonged too was destroyed. Then that orc would live an ordinary orc life, most living in the tunnels and caves like an ordinary orc and mating with those female orcs bearing equine faces. Some of those hoard survivors would live in the land, creating another breed of a small orc civilization in the soils of Faerun who in almost every hour of their life would feel the painful rays of the hot sun. And unfortunately for Skurai, he was one of these orcs who knew nothing about the ways of the hoard cycle.

Ah, yes, Skurai was just an ordinary orc, dumb, ugly, and evil. And he joined the Deathsong Hoard only so that he could make a living for himself in Faerun, only so that his curiosity of the upper-world might be filled, only so that he would know what it feels like to battle against the famous creatures of the upper world. He wanted to test his strength in this world, and most of all came the most important purpose as to why curiosity came over to him.

Skurai wanted to make a name for himself in the pantheon's of his orc gods. And for that purpose alone, drove him to the glorious but evil campaign of the Deathsong Hoard. He did not care what Morak's plans for the orc hoard was. All he wanted was to sate his thirst for curiosity and to sate his hunger for battle. As an orc, Skurai marveled at everything that was new to him. He feared magic, but he also respected it in a sense because of the hidden mysteries hidden beneath its power.

He had never thought of learning magic before. All he knew was that he wanted to see it. And he himself, as an orc who knew absolutely nothing about spellcraft wanted nothing more than to defeat magic, by the orc way of defeating things, sheer, brutish and unstoppable strength.

He was on his twentieth year as an orc, and he knew he would not live long to make a name for himself in the orc pantheon. He was in a hurry in his quest of becoming a legend. He was an orc, harsh and quick, always in a hurry.

Little did Skurai know that this campaign would change his entire life.


	2. Chapter 1 Orc Lessons

CHAPTER ONE:

Sango Orc lieutenant with tons of weapons

Zugbo Orc champion of Morak Deathsong, and great with unarmed combat

The orcs in the area were forming a huge circle, the green skinned brutes crowding everywhere on all sides of the circle swarmed like carrions. Weapons were on their hands, some of it flailing wildly in the air with abandon, swinging back and forth as if the orc wielding the weapon was the only creature in the circle.

Small or huge droplets of saliva blurted out from their mouths as they went in cries of lust and happiness, never thinking that the waters that came out of their mouth as they screamed in pleasure had splattered itself on another orc's body. They did not care; they never cared for the well being of their fellow orcs. They were here for one purpose, and one purpose only, and that was to see bloodshed, to see a fight to the death between two great orc warriors of the army.

Some of the orcs pushed the other so that they could get a better glimpse of the battle raging in the middle of the circle. Most of them gave an elbow to another, not because there was a purpose to it, but because the orc just found it amusing the get his annoying fellow orc get hurt by him.

The orc getting bruised would then turn its head left and right to discover who was giving him the invisible attack. Then it would scratch its head after its exploration deemed useless. Some would even accuse an innocent orc on the circle whose sole purpose was to only watch the fight. There would be no apologies, but swift and sudden vengeance. A huge punch would be delivered to its face, or maybe a grip on its neck followed by a loud questioning scream which really isn't a question saying "Yer da one 'o did 'it ta me weren't ya?".

The poor orc being accused of would shake its head to confirm its innocence, and after that his nose would be bleeding, and he would be lying face down on the ground from a solid punch delivered by the stupid accuser.

In the back of the circular crowd of orcs was an elevated soil, more like a hill than a mound. In that high elevation stood the banner of Morak Deathsong, and standing on the banner staring down at the center of the circular orc gathering stood the great orc warboss himself.

His crown made from the head of a gigantic werewolf he had killed in his early adventures seemed as if it consumed his entire head, its unmoving fangs crippling numbly up at his forehead and down at his chin, its eyes mysteriously maintaining its reddish glow even though it no longer bore life.

His leather armor made from the hide of a bristleback and plucked with the feathers of a dark wolf made him look more of a lycantrophe than an orc. He carried a huge great sword strapped on his back, and it was said that whatever wound inflicted by that sword could not heal back again. He was Morak Deathsong, leader and ruler of the Deathsong army, and champion of Gruumsh.

On his left were three of his shamans. Wearing colorful costumes that plumed wildly out of their ragged straps like leaves, the shamans' eyes stared gleefully at the bloodbath about to begin in the circle. Their hands carrying wands made of crooked wooden branches with dried leaves and bones stitched to a thick string on its tip.

On his right were four of his war lieutenants. All of them wearing huge leather armors made from the hide of cows, their shoulder pads made of metal were painted with a black inadvertent skull, showing off the insignia of the Deathsong clan. Their pants and boots were made of ragged leather armor, torn and wearied from the scales of battle. It was stitched back with strings, but the craftwork in repairing those wearied armor seemed less than good. They wore a metallic war painted skullcap on their head, 

with a nose protector running down between their eyes. They carried multiple weapons for battle of sort, a hand axe and a tomahawk strapped on the left hip by a leather belt, there was also a small wooden buckler on their back accompanied by a bow and arrow strapped by another leather belt that ran across their torso laterally, then on their right hip held more than a dozen daggers, strapped by another leather belt and clinking wildly as they moved. They were looking at each other, perhaps taking time to enjoy themselves at the battle that was about to happen in the circle.

"Look closely and witness the talent manifested by our orc heritage." Morak gave a whisper to his lieutenants as he stood tall placing one of his furry gloves on the banner. Such things of exaggeration about the orcs were needed to be said since these liutenants compared to Morak were nothing more than ordinary brainless brutes. And he needed to teach his secrets and talents to them so that the legacy of the Deathsong hoard would not perish.

Morak was no ordinary orc, he was talented in almost all aspects included in warfare. Plus his charisma toward the orc hoards was beyond epic. The orcs worshipped him as if he was some kind of god in mortal form. His biggest strategy was the ability to speak something of exaggeration, making the curious normal fellow orcs admire him of this power.

The orcish power of bluffing and diplomacy were normally low, or sometimes orcs were incapable of such skills. And it is because of this bluffing power that Morak Deathsong is able to rally tens and thousands of orcs to his cause - Exaggerating his promises of victory and conquest, inspiring fellow orcs with never before heard speeches that blended well with their brutal and savage nature.

Morak Deathsong was one in a million, and his prowess in battle was unmatched, this is because his fighting skills blended with sheer brute strength and orcish magic, no foe of his had lived to tell the tale about a duel with this vicious orc. His techniques in battle were weird, combining strength, speed agility and magic, and not even the orc shamans of Morak could decipher the true nature of his art.

Some say that he had been granted the power of the lycantrophe from the wolf helmet he carried on his head and that he could transform himself into a werewolf, maximizing his speed and strength three folds towards an ordinary mortal.

Skurai was the first one to notice Morak, he quickly turned his head to the left to eye his great warboss with a loyal and stupid look, he didn't say anything, what he did was just move his head up and down emphasizing a nod.

Morak gave the young orc a manly grin, his tusk protruding badly in his left cheek. He was basically pleased that the young orc lieutenant was listening to his speech properly. But he dared not speak words of worthiness to the young one for three more of his lieutenants still needed attention.

The remaining orc lieutenants on the other hand weren't paying attention to Morak's little whisper. They were so concentrated on the fight happening below the circular gathering of orcs that they barely even heard the speech Morak gave to them.

Skurai turned his eyes to his three fellow lieutenants and gave a loud cough to distract them of their concentration…no response. He made his cough louder than before that even the shamans were able to hear him. And when the three lieutenants turned their heads from the fight to their warboss, Morak Deathsong gave the young orc warrior another comforting but ugly grin.

"Oh boss, I'm sorry, the fight wuz really good and I couldntz, err…" The orc lieutenant known as Sango bent his head down low as he spoke towards his warboss with respect and apology.

Morak did not shudder. He let the issue slip this time since no one was really wrong about it. "Just watch the fight, and see if you canz get some good stuff in it or two." He waved his hand forward to the fight below and gave a calm and bored look.

The lieutenants then turned their head and concentrated on the fight below. Skurai was one of them, but he really didn't care about these things. He was the last one to turn his head away from Morak and look at the fight.

Morak patted him on the shoulder as he did not look. Skurai could feel the strength in those orcs' fingers, even his shoulder pads seemed to bend its surface as Morak's wolf gloves gripped on it tightly.

Skurai could feel the orc waboss's grip. He gave an assuring smile without looking at his leader's face and tried to concentrate on the fight again.

Two orc gladiators who were the competitors of the nights show banged their heads together as both their hands wrestled in a grip. Blood oozed out of their foreheads as they locked stares. Their grips crushing their hands and the enemy's, but they hardly seemed to notice the pain or the bloodloss they had received in the fight. Nor could they hear the shouts and cheers of the orc audience circling in on them. They were both focused on one thing, and that was to kill the other competitor, winning the fame of an orc champion of Morak Deathsong and having the privilege of leading one of Morak's platoons on the assault towards Corylon tomorrow.

The orc competitor known as Zugbo could feel the strength of his enemy fading away. He could tell from the equilibrium of their banged foreheads that this orc competitor he was facing right now was shaking from the hits it received. He tried to strengthen both his grip towards the enemy's hand grip, but his orc enemy did not seem to give up. Instead of giving in on his strength the enemy of Zugbo tightened his grip more, making the wrestling of their hands more tiresome for Zugbo than ever.

Zugbo gritted his teeth as he matched the orcs hand grip with his own.

He eyed his enemy and saw that it was trying its best to look unshaken, but it eyes betrayed it, and Zugbo could see that he was winning. Even now he could feel his hand grip conquering the fellow orc competitor's.

He strengthened his grip more and screamed in a sudden barbarian rage, denying himself of the pain and the fatigue he felt from the wrestling match. So strong was his grip and so big was the boost of his strength that his enemy knelt down on one knee as Zugbo strengthened his push more, their foreheads still touching one another, and their eyes never letting go of each other's gaze.

Then the fellow orc competitor screamed, denying himself also of the pain and fatigue that he felt.

Zugbo could feel it, could feel the strength of his enemy increasing by two folds. Even now he could feel its hand grip matching his. He screamed again and removed his forehead from his enemy's, giving his head some momentum for a head butt.

Then it connected, Zugbo's forehead smashing against his enemy's forehead. Tiny droplets of blood flew out as the two orcs's foreheads capsized. Zugbo's forehead seemed to be the stronger, and even the audience circling them could see that his enemy was dazed from the blow.

Zugbo screamed, delivered another head butt, then another, and another, making the fellow competitor unconscious, his body lying flat on the ground and his arms spread laterally by Zugbo's hand grip.

The orcs on the area cheered and screamed with jealousy and amusement as the champion of Morak Deathsong emerged out of the bloody battle victorious. Then they screamed some more as Zugbo delivered another head butt towards the unconscious orc, shattering its skull and spilling blood and gore on the arena.

As Skurai watched, he did not care who won such a match. Skurai never cared. He had other plans right now, something that drove him, a dream perhaps.

When Morak had eyed him just now he felt a sudden urge of power and pride welled in him. He had decided that he wanted one thing in this campaign, and that was to become the successor of Morak's great hoard.


	3. Chapter 2 In the Temple

®e\¬tLCorylon City

River Follower

CHAPTER 2

Bottles were being distributed in order at the table. There were bandages rolled neatly and some tools needed in healing cuts or wounds from battle were organized carefully in the bags of the clerics of Sune. The temple was busy as it could be tonight.

Almost all of the clerics of Sune's temple stood in the infirmary. Wearing nothing but their red robes of silk that almost covered their entire body they jumbled out in all corners, organizing healers-kits and healing potions for the casualties of a battle soon to emerge in Corylon.

"Oh how I wish things were like this always in the temple." Ara frowned. Sweat was dripping down her forehead as her fingers mingled with the healers-kit. "Things always get pretty boring everyday doing the same old chores we apprentices do."

"Where's your seriousness girl?" Mina looked at her in a way a woman looks at a child. "There's a big possibility that a battle will erupt in our city tomorrow. Aren't you a little bit worried?"

Ara stared at the woman, and then she smiled, her curved lips inviting a sense of beauty in that gesture. "I know that…it's just that.." Then her face gave out a confusing look. "It's just that in this way we can at least do something more important than hang around Sune's chambers praying and do some beauty.."

"You think that praying is not that important for Sune?" Mina gave a shocked look as she replied.

"No!!..No..not that!" Ara seemed lost in her words. She wiped the sweat in her forehead as she continued. "I mean, this thing we are doing right now seems bigger of service in Corylon than Sune." She was now rolling a piece of cloth in a smooth manner with her hands

"Oh you wouldn't know anything about Sune!" Mina smiled and shook he head slowly in disappointment. "You've never even tasted her magic yet. The power brought forth by the beauty and passion she delivers to us."

Ara seemed at a loss in the conversation and decided to give up. "Well you can't blame me. I'm new to the temple, and hopefully I can interpret better about the views of your so called _passion_ of Sune."

"You know what? You speak like a guy." Mina laughed merrily. It was heartwarming and inoffensive. But she could see Ara pouting her lips in disappointment at her gesture.

"Anyway, we are doing Corylon and Sune a favor by saving the lives of Corylians. So this job is indeed more important than everyday duties in the temple." Ara replied. She was now rolling a piece of cloth in a smooth manner with her hands. She had lost eye contact at Mina and her hands seemed to work gracefully as she finished rolling up the bandage, placing it inside a leather bag big enough to carry five potions of healing and some tools needed in binding wounds.

Mina gave an approving nod and smiled at her little sister. Ara was 17 and a year younger than her when she was introduced to the temple of Sune. She had always admired the way her little sister took things that were related to helping others happily. She wished she had that passion, to work a little harder and to spend a little more time in doing what was beneficial to the beloved worshippers of Sune. And because of this she was proud of her little sister.

She looked at her more, already noticing before that her sister was no longer looking at her, but at the healers-kit she had just packed up inside the bag.

"Sister?" Ara suddenly spoke, she turned her head in such a fast manner to look at Mina that her startled older sister turned her head back at the table, blushed, and started to work on the mixing of her potions, an art Ara was still ignorant of.

"What is it?" Mina spoke, her eyeballs rolling to the side where her sister was at, making the situation look as if she was still staring at the potions. But her hands had stopped pouring the ingredients, symbolizing the fact that she was disrupted.

"She's pretty isn't she?" Ara looked in the ceiling to hide her fantasizing.

"Who?"

"The lady Mistress."

"Miss Sentara?"

"Yes. I've never seen anybody as beautiful as the high priestess herself." Ara gave a envious but friendly frown in her face. "At my first glance of her I thought she was a goddess. Her beauty captivated most of the men at Corylon, I could even hear some of our neighbors talking about her. Even father and mother boast proudly of Miss Sentara to us, and to the merchants outside Corylon."

"Well that's because she is blessed." Mina replied neutrally.

"I hope that I'll get the chance to become as beautiful as her." Ara glanced forwards as she spoke. Her eyes showed signs of pure admiration.

Mina turned to look at her and was not surprised. She was also glad that there were no signs of jealousy or envy in her younger sister's face.

"Do not worry my little sister. That is the gifts of Sune to us priestesses." Mina gave her a reply filled with assurance and confidence. "And I do not think you'll have to worry about being beautiful. Haven't you already captivated the hearts of many men in Corylon to call yourself beautiful?" She smiled at her more, showing off the dimples on her cheeks. Her beauty seemed to increase as her mirth came. Ara looked at her.

"Oh? But I still have a lot more to worry about, namely my sister, who has outmatched me in beauty." Ara replied to her coyly.

The two ladies who were chattering in the infirmary were too busy to notice the tall brunette standing behind them carrying with the crown of the high priestess of Sune on her forehead.

Sentara gave a low cough. She placed her hands on her mouth to cover anything that would come out of it. Although the cough was loud enough for the two ladies in front of her to hear it was not intentional in a way that water would blurt out of her lips.

Mina was the first cleric to realize that her mistress was listening to their girlish chattering. She turned her head to the back and gave a shocked expression, then a normal and welcoming one. And after that, she gave a light elbow to her younger sister to catch Ara's attention.

"Oh Miss Sentara I didn't know that you were listening to us." Ara was at a loss. The only things that came out of her mouth were random words made to heighten up the conversation.

Mina had just finished with her packing when she was forced to turn her head at the back from her sister's elbow. She turned to see a smiling Sentara looking at her. The High Priestess's smile was heartwarming and lovely. Her beauty seemed to shine through Ara's eyes, making them itchy.

"Miss Sentara….I've just finished." Ara spoke blankly.

Sentara gave a chuckle, and Mina couldn't help but stare at the two with confusion.

"My sister is new to the temple. But she is willing to serve Sune the same way as I am. Please excuse her…" Mina bowed low as she speaks towards the high priestess.

Sentara placed her hands on Ara's, and then she gripped them warmly. "Ah, but what beauty does youth give. I can tell from you my faithful priestess that you will be blessed always."

Ara could not help but blush from the comment. She turned her attention from Sentara to the bandages, bright red flushing from her cheeks. Then she turned to face her mistress once again, she and Mina both.

Sentara removed her hands and placed them on her breasts, clasping each other she orders them to get on with what they were supposed to be doing. "Continue, time is passing, and the men of Corylon must have most of the help in needs in order to survive."

The two ladies gave a nod. They turned to each other and flushed from their blandness. They bowed low towards their mistress and smiled back. Their faces filled with adore towards their beloved high priestess. They felt unnerved by the high-priestess's presence, as if a goddess had looked upon them. They felt blessed. And so they stared at their mistress like eager fans.

Sentara replied to the two with another bow and they went on with their duties. Having one last look at the place she turned towards the infirmary's exit. The priestesses all stopped short with their duties as she passed by, perhaps to glance at her presence or two.

Just outside the infirmary door a man stood. He wore the blue clothes of a commoner, but his presence alone made the priests and the priestesses strolling in the garden look. His long yellow hair flowed down his back like a mane. His lovely face was so beautiful that if it weren't for his well toned body, he would be considered a girl. Two men-at-arms stood at his back., both of them turning their heads this and that to take a look at the beautiful sceneries of the garden of Sune. He was Gustav Gonghammer, the protector of Corylon, and the best of its warriors.

Gustav stood on the pathway straight. It was carved with circular slabs of stone placed on the ground one by one to carve a road towards the gate. Holding his chin somewhat down to keep a low profile inside this place which warriors were not welcome at he felt nervous as he did this. Then he turned to look down at the stone he was standing at, marveled at the designs of Sune's garden for a while, and looked up again to ready himself for the high priestess's arrival.

He shrugged as he saw the high priestess Sentara come out of the door. They were staring at each other eye to eye as the lady made her exit.

Gustav gulped for a moment, he did well to hide his nervousness in the temple from his men, but Sentara's eyes could penetrate through those defenses, she knew he was anxious.

They were not lovers, but their positions and the rumors in the city brought up sauce to their relationship. Somehow, someway, when the two would meet in meetings privately due to certain responsible duties brought to them by the officials, they would all feel anxious.

She was the most beautiful woman in the city of Corylon, men and women boasted that talent outside the city walls, there was no doubt about that.

He was loved by all women. They admired him because of the genius he brought forth in battle, and adored him because of the charm he brought in the public when he wasn't facing his enemies.

Such was what the two thought. They knew that no other person in Corylon could fill up the place as the other's lover besides himself/herself. But duty bounds them apart. And perhaps it was only infatuation and the power of romantic rumors that brought them to adore each other.

Every time they met there would always be that tingling satisfaction, that unexplainable feeling of pleasure to long for the other's acceptance and love. Sentara did well to hide it, by showing her usual warm and merry gesture towards Gustav, that look that she had carried always, that look that brought forth grace in her beauty. It was a factor that polished her charm in the public more. It was a sense of balance to what is amazing to the eyes of others, to move with grace followed by once appearance and body, which was the best sauce for lust.

She smiled at the general, that warm smile that had conquered the hearts of millions. He felt refreshed, eager to bring forth something outside his lips, and before he could even say something, Sentara went ahead of him.

"My priestesses are ready." It was made in a manner casual enough in the meeting. "You can count on the blessings of Sune for this battle we are about to endure."

Gustav shrugged, but he did well to hide the feeling. He suddenly bolstered his muscles more, keeping his stomach tucked in and his chest heave out. Then he gave a gracious bow to the high-priestess of Sune. "I thank you mistress of Sune. The temples help shall always be important to Corylon."

"Why is it that you carry a look so worrying General Gustav? You see somewhat unsure?" Sentara's face was a little curious, it did not appear in a mocking matter but instead it resembled her love for Gustav.

He was surprised by the question, never has Sentara spoke so openly towards him before. Maybe he should let the issue slip out. But it was true. He was afraid, and neither Sentara nor any of the citizens of Corylon knew the danger that befell them right now. Morak's army was the largest thing that had come to oppose them. Perhaps this was the last time that he would see Sentara again. Perhaps he would fall in battle, and the citizens that once loved him would weep for it. And what of his love for Sentara? Would it just go down in his dreams as he ventures in the afterlife?

"The army that we face milady, it is something we have never faced before." Gustav said "I fear that…" He would never say it in front of her, never admit it that the city had a possibility fall into the Deathsong's grasp. He would die before that happens.

Sentara patted him on the shoulder. Even she herself was surprised by the sudden casualness she showed to him, perhaps because it was from the strange look on Gustav's face, that look of fear and doom, that look of fear and doom about dying and leaving behind ones love, never being able to confess it.

"You are a great soldier Gustav Galdamer of Corylon, and your love for our city is something I have never seen nor heard of before. All the people here believe in your capabilities and your loyalty to the city. Rest assured that you have the blessing of Sune to shield your body and spirit as you ride towards the enemies of Corylon." Then after this she placed her hands on his cheeks and kissed him on the forehead. "A blessing, from the goddess herself."

He shrugged, then blushed as Sentara withdrew her hands from his cheeks and drew her head back to stare at him with a heartwarming smile. He gave a salute then, perhaps the most formal thing he had ever done to the high-priestess. "The forces of Morak Deathsong will never be enough to defeat the goodness that flows inside of Corylon. And by my hammer I will assure of that." His grammar had gone wrong as he gave his farewell. Perhaps it was because of the kiss.

Oh but how he felt like a child that time, eager and pleased from the high-priestess's kiss, a spell for victory, and what a powerful spell it was. He stiffened as he saw Sentara bow low while clasping her hands down, and then bowed back. He could feel the stares of his men on his back, and he never knew if they were mocking them or admiring him of his fortune, he focused on Sentara and none alone.

"Fare met brave general of Corylon, until we meet again when the tides of war have ended." Sentara turned back and went inside the infirmary.

"Fare met beautiful worshipper of Sune." He turned around to his men bearing huge smiles of bliss. "Let us go. We have a battle to win."


	4. Chapter 3 Armada

®e\¬tLCorylon City

Baku – Scout

Boragus – Puppet Master

Morak Deathsong – General

Grishnik – Assassin

Ariakus – Mage (Mystra)

Tyndal – Mage (Tyr)

Handal – Mage (Mystra)

Astral Kebleen – Archmage of the Twilight Tower

River Follower – Chapter 3 – Armada

The darkness covered him on the corner. Nothing could be known of the fact about how Morak Deathsong got inside the city. Either he got in through stealth or through magic it didn't matter. He was here, standing proud and fierce, in the alleys of Corylon. He wore his usual gray wolf outfit including the helm.

It was night and people were mostly asleep. The alley was dark enough to keep him hidden from the town watch. He crossed his arms as he leaned on a stone wall, probably from a casa in the heart of the city.

"It's time" Bearing a huge grin as he spoke those words, he regarded the two creatures in front of him with serious respect. But he carried in his face the proud look of a commander.

Two huge green skinned warriors sat on the barrel looking at him as he stood straight. They were both armed from feet to teeth, and their presence carried a dark sense of mystery in the alleys of Corylon. They both wore black studded leather armors in their bodies, each squaring accompanied by sharp shards of metal on the tip. These weren't Morak's lieutenants. And orc faces these two might bear, they were just too big to be orcs.

"General, I am unsure about this." The one on the right spoke to Morak, a hint of sarcasm in his tone. "Baku is still new, he might jeopardize the assault." He then turned his head to the side to look at the other orc-like creature sitting next to him.

Morak stared at the soldier on clad studded leather on the barrel intently, his right eyebrow arched up from the soldier's sudden loud tone. Perhaps it was a way of toning down his element, to make the soldier know that he, Morak Deathsong was in command here and perhaps to let the soldier know his place.

"Nonsense Grishnik. Baku is ready, I assume he has trained long enough to achieve this opportunity." Morak replied.

"He is our newest recruit, we can do this without him." Grishnik, the soldier in studded leather whom Morak seemed to be regarding at spoke back. He seemed to have forgotten his place and ignored Morak's serious glare, for his tone was a bit higher this time.

Baku, the other orc-like creature sitting next to him in another barrel didn't speak anything. He kept his head low looking at the rocky asphalt that made the ground of the alley. The daggers kept in the sash tied to his belt jingled silently as he listened more to his teacher and his general's conversation.

"Then this is a big opportunity to prove himself as elite of the royal armada." Morak glared at Grishnik furiously. Then he turned to look at Baku, the eyes of the silent recruit glowing fierce, they showed no emotion, just a sense of irritation from the time consuming the decision if he was to join the assault or not.

"But General Morak…"

"Silence!!" Morak scowled, if he'd had scowled more loudly it would be doubted that the town watch could hear such a loud reply. "He will be our distraction for this assault. That so little burden is his job for tonight so that he won't press that much trouble. Are you approving to this Captain Grishnik?"

Grisnik nodded, his glare on his commander was challenging, but he did well not to overdo it.

"After the wards have been taken care of by Boragus, Baku will attack the tower head on, kill the guards and create as much commotion in the city as possible. While he is at the frenzy, you, and Boragus climb to the top stealthily and kill as many mages as you can." Morak was now standing, his hands clenched in fists of excitement from the assault that they were supposed to do. "Honor yourself young warrior." He then walked close to the Baku, who quickly went down to the ground on one knee as Morak placed his hands on his elbow. "This is the time you prove yourself to the glory of our royal armada."

Baku raised his head to take a look at Morak Deathsong. Then he turned to look at Grishnik, his master, still sitting and looking straight to the wall as if he hadn't heard the praise Morak gave to his student.

"Rise! Baku, of the Goffs Elite!!" Morak commanded the young orc-like warrior to stand up, and so he did. Carrying with him a proud and anticipating look, Baku took a deep breath and bowed for a salute in his general. Grishnik did not seem to care.

"I shall not disappoint you master." Baku then bowed his head low to Grisnik.

"Just do your job." Was the only thing the teacher said.

Morak Deathsong grinned at the powerful bond these two had. Grishnik was the elite of his assassins and his student Baku seemed promising enough to his eyes.

"Where's Boragus." Morak averted his attention to a shadowy darkness in the corner of the alley.

"Here…" A silent whisper came out in the corner.

"Are your puppets ready?" Morak addressed the creature.

"One of them is already heading to the tower. I've placed the lightning shields on them so that if they make contact to defensive wards…"

Morak held a hand to shut the creature up. "I know, I know!!..Spare me the explanation wizard." He then turned to Baku and Grishnik with a smile. "Now all we'll have to do is wait."

Grishnik stood up from his barrel, the daggers in his sash jingled loudly, louder than his student's, the black spear that he held stood tall.

--

"I hope Gustav knows what he is doing." Ariakus frowned, bearing a bored look as he placed his right hand to his cheek in order to support his drowsy head. "It's not like the orcs are that much of a problem to Corylon."

There were four mages sitting in the royal table at the highest floor in the Twilight Tower of Corylon. Their swollen eyes proved the fact that they hadn't slept in days planning for the defense of Corylon. They were always like these, loyal to the city. Their love for Corylon was as big as their love for magic. They would gladly die defending it against an army. Their magic would lift up to do battle whenever such a tragedy would occur. They secured the safety of the residents if there were catastrophes happening. Using their magic to put out a fire, to repair a collapsing building, and to aid in the prosperity of their city, they were melded to the city by the love of the people to them, and them to theirs. Almost everybody knew the four great mages of Corylon, the four figures who made the city strong and standing, backing up its prosperous and military power by the miracles their magic could perform. Almost everybody loved the four mages of Corylon, the four mages who were always there for the city, to lend a helping a hand in times of necessity and burdens.

And so the people of Corylon gave the four mages shelter inside their settlement. They built them the Twilight Tower as their home, where they could rest, where they could study their books, and where they could experiment on their lore and magic. Some of the city residents even came to one of the mages, asking to be an apprentice or some sort, and how the mages welcomed them. A year later when the Twilight Tower was built, there were more than a dozen apprentices swarming inside the building, shuffling books, greeting strangers and helping their masters on their experimental magic.

The mages had been readying their ingredients for battle for four days now. They were all surprised that the orc hoard of Morak Deathsong hadn't made a move yet. Were the orcs planning? Something like that seemed unnatural since orcs were normally brainless brutes who charged towards a battlement headlong without thinking of the consequences.

Gustav's reports weren't lies either. They have seen the orc hoard, and they have seen the numbers of it and have compared the strength of the hoard against the defenders of Corylon. It had, without a doubt a long gap. The orc hoard's numbers were large enough to outnumber Corylon's defenders by fourty to one. In short, the orc hoard was too large. Perhaps it was the largest invading army the city had faced before. And Corylon did not stand a chance against them. But with magic, it would be different.

"I believe in Gustav's potential." Handal yawned. He tried shaking his glass to jingle the wine beneath it as he looked at the Ariakus. His lips bending coyly, but with a bored look on it. "Besides, don't you believe that our magic isn't enough for this so called hoard."

"But this is something we've never seen before. The orcs are camping outside our walls. That's something I've never heard of before. Orcs don't normally do those things." Ariakus was in a sudden state of energetic worry. He placed his hands on the table as he regarded Handal with a worried look. He did well to be courteous enough not to stand up since it would look a bit offensive for Handal.

"Bah!! Those orcs are still the same." Tyndal the lady mage broke in. "They're not that intelligent. So what if they camped outside. The way I see it, they've never made moves to make siege weapons. Now if I were a good warboss, I'd make those."

As Tyndal made his bored reply, Ariakus sat down. Handal couldn't help but chuckle at the Ariakus. The mage had suddenly broken back to a sitting position speechless. Tyndal was right. They've never received any bombardments from catapults or trebuchets before. The only thing unnatural happening was the orcs camping outside their walls. Handal raised out his bottle to salute Tyndal's genius. Even Astral Kebleen, the highest ranking mage among the four gave an approving nod as he listened to the conversation.

"Then it is done." Astral Kebleen, the high mage of Twilight Tower stood up. "The enemy is still orcs. But their number is as dangerous as any ordinary hoard. We are to resume what we are supposed to do. You all get some rest as…"

"What? Create more offensive wards and recharge more evocation gems?" Ariakus blurted out before the high mage could finish.

"Got any better ideas?" Tyndal broke out.

Ariakus was, once again speechless. He went back to his chair and muttered a few casual curses as Tyndal chuckled at his boldness.

Handal raised his hand once more to Tyndal and the woman this time replied to the social mage with a flirting smile. Astral Kebleen would've made a smile when….BOOM!!

"What was that?" Handal suddenly stood, his wine spilling from the sudden quake the tower had received. The smell of smoke was everywhere, lightning sparks were heard in his ears, fires blazing back and forth, wards sizzling…wards sizzling? "It's an assault. The tower's under attack!!" He turned to face at Astral Kebleen only to find out that the high mage had already closed his eyes and summoned forth his spell farscrying spell.

--

The gate of the tower of Twilight had been broken almost into two as the guards saw the human stranger suddenly ran towards it. No doubt that the wards in the entrance had been suddenly activated when the man's body made contact to it.

Those guards who were at the tower door and far away from the gate, were able to see lightning spit forth in the man's body. Each of the blasts of lightning running towards the wards placed in the gates, creating explosions and smoke as the wards exploded in the equilibrium. They could see some of the wards fight back, bringing forth missiles of magic to target the unknown stranger. The stranger would stagger back and forth, as the magical bolts of the wards hit him. But the stranger seemed not to feel any pain.

He was already knocked back unconscious as the first two to three missiles hit him. The guards on the tower door saw him lying there, on the stoned ground lifeless. But the man stood back, this time bolts of fire and magic hit him. His arms fell off from the magical blows, his skin made black and scarred from the heat. But he kept walking, lifeless like a zombie, like a puppet.

Two apprentice mages ran down the tower to take a look at the commotion happening below. Their faces bearing irritated looks.

Most of the apprentices working in the tower were going back to their rooms to get their wands to fight off the intruders, or some of them, who aren't skilled in battle magic that much, packed up to get away from this hell-hole they're at.

Perhaps the two apprentices were quick at reacting to the explosions. Perhaps they were always prepared if a fight were to break out in the Twilight Tower, whatever the case may be they were the first to take a good look at the intruder, a lifeless zombie spitting lightning from its body, destroying the defensive wards of the tower.

If they were good detectives they'd have noticed the ploy here, that the zombie was only a pawn, or merely a tool to take care of the wards guarding their beloved tower.

They hurried down to the door, wands on their right, spells at the ready. Guards who had retreated at the door for safety looked at them with questioned looks.

The red robed apprentice wearing glasses looked at the walking cadaver with a shocked look. "By Mystra's mercy!! What is that thing?"

"It's killing our wards and heading here!" The other red robed apprentice said. "I don't care what it is, we have to waste it."

The apprentice with glasses pulled the sleeves of his robes up to his elbows. He readies his wand for a spell and makes a hand signal to the guards. "Stand back. I'm going to blast that thing ten times to oblivion!"

The guards, knowing the hazards in a mage's battle casting did well enough to stay far away from the apprentice in case a backfire would happen. The apprentice with the eye-glasses pointed his wand at the zombie and started chanting a spell. The other apprentice darted to the side where the guards had hid. They were so focused on the mage's incantation and the fires blazing in the area that they didn't notice a small, silent sparkling sound that came from the gate beyond, where the zombie walked.

The apprentice wearing eye-glasses stopped at a brief moment in his incantation. His eyes dilated, as if something surprising had happened. He turned to look at his fellow apprentice and the guards whimpering in the corner. Then his whole world turned black, blood gushed out of his mouth as the tiny hole in his chest spat out his organs.

"What was that?" One of the guards questioned.

"There was no chant?" The other apprentice replied. He took his friend by the arms as it fell down to his embrace. He was sure there wasn't any chant. And the fact that it was a spell or not questioned him. It all happened so fast. He didn't even see any missiles heading towards his friend's chest.

The guards looked around the area where the attack would've come from. There was nothing, nothing except fire, smoke and the bloody zombie spitting its lightning magic to the wards and heading closer to them.


	5. Chapter 4 Commencing Phase

The River Follower

Teramula – Daughter of Morak Deathsong

Chapter 4 – Commencing Phase

Skurai made himself comfortable as he sat in the huge rock at Duloin Pass. His gray robes, although weathered and dry, made him warm and resistant from the cold sting the night carried. He carried it with ease, allowing it to flutter freely as the cold breeze of the night dozed off to his body.

Placing one of his elbows on his toe, and looking straight to the dark sky, he took up one some of the morsels of meat that was packed in his small pouch. He takes one last look at his meal. It was made up of parts of meat from animals of the wild all jumbled into one meatball, and then after the long stare, Skurai gobbles it in an instant with his sharp orc canines. His eyes make a serious and wild glance at Teramula, the daughter of Morak Deathsong. He was one of the guards for the little orc's safety in training right now. And he couldn't help but feel a sense of calmness as he made himself comfortable on the rocks above. But something about the little orc-princess made his hair shiver with fear, so little was she, but so fierce, so powerful, all the fury and strength of the promises of Gruumsh packed up in one small façade.

Teramula was a young half-orc who was still under her tenth year as an orc royalty. She was trained by none other than her great father Morak Deathsong himself. Several other human and orc teachers were being brought to Morak's chambers as prisoners to train the young orc princess in becoming a fighting machine. Not only was she taught the skills in a fight, but Morak and several orc shamans had taught this little orc the language of the humans, the power of nature and the skills in surviving the wild as a feral being. She was Morak's successor, and skilled she might be in fighting, her strength and skills were nothing compared to the intelligence she bore. By her age right now, she was being taught elven and human languages.

An ordinary orc would'be thought of it as a waste of time, some of them would even kill their teachers due to too much frustration and pain in thinking deeply. But Teramula was no ordinary half-orc, and her father Morak Deathsong was no ordinary orc either. Talent seemed to have a way of showing itself to Morak's family line. Weirdness Morak's children may carry their prowess in battle was a thing not to be trifled with.

Teramula was doing a bunch of spins and tumbles in the rocky ground below the rock where Skurai observed. Four full grown warrior orcs circled her, their hands gripping tight and ready for a wrestle, a punch or two. From the looks of things these four creatures served as Teramula's sparring partner for the night. Skurai watched her training with a bored look on his face, his mouth chewing off the meatballs transforming them into grub.

The four orcs encircling her were huffing and panting, their eyes blood red, and saliva dripping down their mouths from exhaustion. From the looks of things Teramula had the upper hand against the four, but it was just a speculation. In a fight anything could happen.

Skurai made a chuckle and imagined what a sight it would be if Teramula were to be accidentally killed by her sparring partners. After all, orcs seem to have a short patience when it came to temper. Maybe the four would go on a blood-rage, get a lucky shot and rip her skin wide open in the process. He masticated some more as he watched the fight commence, feeling the flavor of the meatballs melt slowly in his tongue.

The four sparring orcs charged at Teramula head on. All of them went off in such a correct sequence and timing, that to Skurai it seemed as if a whirlpool of orcs had began to rush on towards the little orc princess.

Teramula spun to the left, making an offense instead of defending against the four-pronged attack from all her sides. She ducks low and evades a fist chop from an orc, and then she raises an uppercut using her right palm as a counter. The poor orc who was hit at the chin by her attack seemed to jump up like pulley from such power she delivered from the blow.

Two orcs came from both her left and right sides as she was busy delivering her uppercut. They rushed to grab at her little body like mad bulls.

Teramula spun around left, and then grabs one of the charging orcs' head with both her arms. Her tiny body gave her much speed to perform such a process. Wrestling the orc's neck with both her hands she directs the orc's head straight towards the other one who was charging on her right.

Skurai couldn't help but give an admiring grin as the two rushing orcs banged each other's head on the process. Now there was only one sparring partner left fresh, he couldn't help but wonder how many tricks this vicious orc princess had.

A hand grabs at his right shoulder as he continues watching the fight like an arrogant judge, disrupting his theatre rather rudely.

Skurai turns his head on the back with a dumb look, his mouth still chewing off the pieces of meatballs to bolus (a combination of food and saliva) to notice another slim but well built figure regarding him with a smile. It was Gaku, another one of Morak's offspring.

The only difference this time was that Gaku, unlike his little sister was a half-orc a year older than her. He was burly and a bit hairy especially on the face for a kid under his tenth year. But his face favored more of his human side rather than the orc one. He didn't bear those huge tusks normal half-orcs had, what he had instead were tiny premolars on the corners of his teeth. Making them look more of a fang rather than a teeth. He was beautiful for an orc. Lots of hair came on his cheeks and the sides of his head. But his cherubic face made him look like a doll instead of a monkey.

The little half-orc's companion and bodyguard was Zugbo, the champion of the tournament of Morak Deathsong, and newly appointed lieutenant of Morak's hoard. Zugbo accompanied the child as he closed in to the watching Skurai.

"A little eager are we there mister Skurai?" Gaku sat along the rock, accompanying Skurai as the orc lieutenant watched his little sister into action. Zugbo just stood there, crossing his arms and looking at the dark gray sky.

"Ye done with yer training kid?" Skurai suddenly turned his face from incredulous to sly as he regarded Gaku with a cool but wicked appearance. He was so focused on trying to get a good impression on the kid that he didn't notice Gaku's hand going for his pouch to grab some of the meatballs he had.

Gaku didn't reply. Instead of continuing the conversation, he stared down at the rocky ground below where his little sister was manhandling the four orcs, his face bearing signs of boredom. He placed his hands to his mouth to chew some of the meatballs he'd stolen from Skurai.

"Hehehe! Yer jealous yer not as good as her are ye?" Skurai gave the kid a light elbow on his ribs. His tone a little bit teasing.

"What's the use fighting? What would you get from it? You'll only get yourself to trouble if you'd ask me, or worse, you could die." Gaku was still not looking at Skurai. He placed his right hand on his chin as he looked numbly below.

Gaku unlike his sister was pretty weak for a half-orc. He had on the other hand great intelligence. And Morak praised him for that. The rest of the orcs were unable to see the value there was in Gaku. They regarded him as a weakling, who couldn't even come to the point of defeating his little sister in battle. Some would've thought that he was useless because he had no physical strength. But those were the understandings of orcs. Morak had foreseen his son's great use in the glory of his hoard. With the strength and charisma of his sister and his great talent in the tactics of battle, Morak knew the two would become unstoppable when they teamed up. His only regret was that his orcs would not respect Gaku because of his frailness. But Morak had taken care of these problems, he had given the kid special guards. And a decree about the first orc to be seen taking advantage of the kid's frailness killed.

Skurai had known Gaku for a long time. He had been his bodyguard for several occasions. And they had grown a lasting relationship like two friends talking about funny stuff in the night. He was always trying to get the kid's attention and trust, always trying to impress the kid. This was because Skurai had found the process as a way to earn more of Morak's favor, to heighten himself up in the ranks of orcs, another step in his dream of becoming a legend.

"Gruumsh welcomes all deaths with his blessings in the end." Skurai said calmly. He held his chest out and thumped it with his fists to make an impressive speech to the kid. "It's better since when we die we get ta be a part Gruumsh's great dogma. Fightin is our way of gaining his favor. Fightin is honoring Gruumsh."

"Is that all? You fight because when death comes to you, you will go to Gruumsh's place. " Gaku replied, he made a painful look on his face as he saw his little sister slam one of her sparring partners.

"Eeerrz…Yeah!!" Skurai couldn't really back his answer up. He scratched his head first as he said those words. "Strength to honor the orc gods!" This time he was able to gather his strength up and made another of those thumps in the breast.

"But the orc gods aren't the only gods in this place mister Skurai. There are others who…"

"Please don't say those words master Gaku, the orc gods are the only gods orcs pray to"

"Aaaah!! But you are wrong there mister Skurai." Gaku smiled at him. He looked more like a grown up rather than a kid as he regarded Skurai with a bold chuckle. "I am not an orc."

"Yer a half-orc?" Skurai asked.

Gaku chuckled again. He then turned to look at his sister who was still creating chaos on the arena below. "There are some gods that would be impressed by mere prayer alone. You don't need to fight to win their hearts."

"But we love fightin. We're orcs master Gaku, and Gruumsh loves us fer that." Skurai didn't know how those words came out of his mouth. Those were pretty wise ones for an orc like him to create. Even he himself was startled by the sudden feeling of intellect springing out of his tongue.

"Do we?" Gaku stared at him with a deep and confused look. There was silence in the two. A few seconds later he stood up and gave a slight nod to his guard Zugbo, it was time for them to leave.

Skurai was still sitting on the rock and looking at him with a blank appearance on his face.

"There are lots of things orcs love rather than fighting Mr. Skurai. But I believe that you don't know that yet." And with that sentence Gaku took his exit, leaving a confused Skurai on the rocks above the sparring ground at Duloin Pass.

--

The guards of the Twilight Tower shivered as the apprentice mage convulsed. The only thing that they saw was the small sudden spark of small fire flickering in the mage's chest. The next thing they knew, the mage was down to his knees, clutching at the fatal wound on his chest.

They turned to look at the zombie that was walking headlong to them. It had no more arms, and its head had been almost ripped away from the magical barrage of the wards placed at the gateway. The defensive wards kept firing on it, sending forth fiery missiles and bolts of magic until it fell down the ground lifeless. It didn't seem to be moving anymore, but the wards were still clawing at the cadaver, tearing away every single tissue remaining of the mutilated corpse. Smoke was everywhere making the battlement confusing.

The guards calmed down a little after they saw the corpse no longer move. They choked and wept as the smoke got into their eyes and nose. Running deeper into the smoke to take a look at the cause of the catastrophe they carried with them all their wits.

A shadowy figure seemed to appear in the smoky ruins. More like a shadow or an apparition from the unclear atmosphere.

"Who goes there?" One of the guards shouted. He placed his hands on his eyebrows to better view the figure.

"I need help! We've got casualties here." Was the only reply of the shadowy figure inside the smoky fog. The three guards exchanged glances and paused for a while, their eyes more watery than ever, their spasms and coughs stronger. "Hurry you fools!" The shadowy figure shouted.

The guards quickly rushed into the smoke not even minding the fate of the two fallen apprentice mages. More lives were at stake here, what happened to the two mages could not be undone any more. This, on the other hand needed their utmost help, and it was something possible that they could perform for the better of the goodly folks.

Several coughs and spasms from the smoke later, one of the guards was at last able to get himself inside the thick layer of smoke. The heat was almost killing him, if he wasn't wearing any elven leather armor he would've been barbecued by the steaming heat right now.

"Where are the casualties?" The guard regards the bulky figure stooping in the smoky cobblestone road that was once the gate.

"Right here!" The dark bulky figure stood up. His right hand carrying a long barreled pistol aimed point blank towards the guard's head. This was a weapon not very known to the people of Faerun, and its form which seemed harmless proved to be a dangerous aspect of the weapon.

Little sparks of fire flickered on the muzzle sending forth both blazing gondpowder (gunpowder – whatever!!) and bullet out of the barrel, blowing the guard's brains into oblivion.

"What was that?" One of the two remaining guards who could not see beneath the smoke looked closer and asked his partner for an answer.

"Beats me." Was the only reply he received from his partner.

There was a sudden whooshing sound this time. The guard who asked the question_ what was that_ turned to the area where the sound had been. He soon found a dagger planted in his forehead.

The remaining guard, after seeing his dying comrade took out his sword and begun to stab randomly on the smoke. He paused for a while knowing better to be defensive rather than reckless. He focused his eyes to make his vision beneath the smoke better. A dark burly figure was charging towards him using the smoke as a way to cover its attack. The guard tightened his grip and readied for a swing.

Baku charged fast. His dagger throw had hit its mark and only one guard was remaining. This time with his tomahawk in hand he was ready for melee. He saw the guard swing its sword high.

Baku ducked low to one side of his body leaving lots of leverage for his other and evading the guard's slash inches away from his head, then made a low lateral chop with his tomahawk.

The guard could've fended or parried the attack if it was pointed for a critical hit. But Baku's attack came low, making its mark and cleaving the guard's left leg into a bloody mess.

The guard howled then lost his balance, and then Baku continued the attack with a rising chop, hacking into the guard's torso. There were sparks as the magic imbued in Baku's tomahawk pierced through the guard's armor like thin sheets of metal. Then Baku spun around and made several consecutive blows with his tomahawk to the already helpless, bloody and probably dead guard of the Twilight Tower. His prey dropped like a doll on the cobblestone ground, its armor ripped to shreds and rusts by the magic of his tomahawk.

The burly warrior looked at the lifeless corpses with a blank expression on his face. He then pulled out the dagger that he threw from the guard's forehead and reloaded his gun, walking towards the Twilight Tower like a calm and confident businessman.

Most of the guards outside the tower were already dead, probably blasted into oblivion by the exploding defensive wards, or burnt down to their deaths from the fires raging in the middle of the gateway. Baku noticed a dead blue robed mage wearing eyeglasses as he closed in to the tower door. He smiled, praised his marksmanship with the gun (gondweapon whatever) then continued on with the mission, leaving a hellish ruin on his back.

The door in front entrance for the Twilight Tower was already open, so Baku didn't need to bash its locks to a pulp to get inside. There was a small space inside, provided by a large wooden counter on the right side of the wall, a door leading to another room on the left, and the staircase leading to the upper part of the tower on the north. Baku paused and summoned his hearing powers to detect any cantrips or guards nearby. There was nothing, except for the hooves of footsteps loudly trampling on the other room at the left, probably belonging to some of the apprentices not too familiar with battle magic who were trying to get out of the emergency situation.

The walls were painted finely with white, a huge bearskin lay on the floor, and some pots filled with flowers served as gardening for the place. There were also some pictures of famous mages in the realms bolted in the corners for some of the apprentices to see. Elminster of Shadowdale for example hung at the back of the counter on the right. The mage was carrying a big pipe while sitting on a chair with a whole piece of apple pie between his legs. There was also a huge picture of Melf on the door to the left side of the room. The whole body of the mage was painted in abstract, and he seemed to be wearing a bloody robe while conjuring some sort of acid arrow pointed to a balor.

Baku has never heard of any of these mages before so he continued on towards the door in the left without taking time to admire Faerunian art, his pistol on the ready as he placed his hands on the doorknob.

With a quick push he slammed the door to the front, his right hand then aimed for a target inside the room. There were probably at least 7 mages crowding inside it, they all turned silent and stopped packing up their things as they saw the orc-like creature appear in the door.

A loud crackle of explosion erupted on Baku's gun. Sparks of fire spat out, putting a hole in the head of one of the mages inside. Baku's target toppled on its knees. The rest of the mages inside the room went for their wands and started firing small bolts of magic towards him. Baku shrugged the first five bolts that hit him, and even managed to hit one of the mages attacking him with his dagger. The rest of the magical bolts however penetrated through his fortitude. He swayed back and forth as the rest of the white magical bolts hit him.

Finally when he couldn't take anymore of it, he fell to his knees and sobbed. He was going to die after all. he had failed to prove his point to his master that he was ready. He could no longer feel the bolts that hit him right now since his body had gone numb from the pain. The bolts felt like punches to him, the squaring of his black studded leather armor toppled from the impact of the bolts. He tried to load his gun one more time but found out that he could no longer move his hands from the numbing pain. He closed his eyes to meet death.

There were loud sounds of shrieks and screams as Baku's world went black. He opened his eyes to take a look at his enemies one last time. They were all sprawled in the floor into a bloody mess. Two mages were skewered by a large spear on one corner like barbecue meat. He noticed the back of his master Grishnik standing proud and irritated, his head looking to the bloody mess he had made inside the room.

"Maa…master.." Baku gathered all his strength to stretch out a hand to his savior.

"Don't be foolish!" Grishnik scolded him. He let his back face the wounded young warrior, because Baku didn't deserve to look at his face after the beating he received from such petty targets. "General Morak shouldn't have let you come. Go back, get some rest, that's an order."

With that word Grishnik turned around. He dared not look at Baku in the eye, he then walked towards the stairs that lead to the top of the Twilight Tower and walked straight as if his student was never there.

Baku sobbed.

--

Astral Kebleen opened his eyes as he finished his scrying spell. He turned to look around the meeting room where the rest of the four mages looked at him with curious and stupid looks. He noticed the rest of the apprentices of the Twilight Tower below climb up the top, into their meeting room, sweating like pigs and panting heavily from the long climb.

"What's the problem?" The four mages spoke in unison as they turned their heads from the staircase to Astral.

Astral Kebleen the highest ranking mage of the Twilight Tower shrugged. He turned around to look at the window on the east. "Come show yourself intruder." He raised his chin, his wand on the ready.

Then beyond the window, where the night sky was visible, a dark figure came out. It was wearing black rags of what seemed to be tattered robes that survived from a fire. Its face green and burly, as it stood in the window base like a ghost, robes fluttering from the wind.

"An orc!" Tyndal spat out. "With magic? How.."

"He is no orc." Astral Kebleen spoke before she could continue her nervous ranting.

"Your lore appears to be more than legend Master Kebleen." A burly voice came out in another corner of the room just beside the burly creature on the window. The voice was gruff and manly, but the pronunciations of the words were too perfect for an orc.

Morak Deathsong walked in the middle of the platform. Astral Kebleen, the rest of the four mages of the Twilight tower and several other apprentices circled the deadly orc who was wearing his wolf skin armor.

"Greetings! I am Morak Deathsong, of the Deathsong hoard!" He gave a low bow to Astral Kebleen. With this action the rest of the mages in the room readied their wands.

Morak turned to look at the mages encircling him. "Oh, but what's this? Mages never fight fair do they? Twenty three against one is such a bad match." Morak spat out. His words were confident and sly.

"I didn't know spelljammers were involved in this hoard. Tell me, is your army composed of scro too?" Astral Kebleen shot an angry word at him, his wand glowing with red rage.

"Oh they are orcs, and nothing except fodder." Morak spoke, his face serious and confident. "My real armada on the other hand lies hidden in this campaign."

"Did you come here to only to declare such stupid secrets? We could kill you within a second you know." Astral replied, the rest of the mages were already readying their wands and pointing it towards Morak.

A huge cry came out in a corner at the circle. All of the mages turned to face one of their comrades skewered to from the back with a black magical claw. It seemed from the black robed scro.

"No!" Morak raised out a hand to halt Boragus' senseless killing. This time the rest of the mages looked at him. Astral Kebleen had the idea that Morak was here to negotiate, he lowered his wand and thought maybe things could be solved diplomatically after all.

But Morak was still dangerous, so he tried not to remove his look of hostility, and resumed the raising of wands from his apprentices. As he tried to ask a question to the hoardboss of the Deathsong clan Morak spoke ahead of him. "We do this the old fashioned way." Morak made a huge devilish grin as he spoke.


	6. Chapter 5 Embers

The River Follower

Chapter 6 – Embers of Reality

Mirrors were very common in her room. Their frames bore glowing runes of white that kept magic hidden in the reflections. These runes were mostly used for the durability of the mirror, making the beautiful piece of glass live as long as the life that of a dragon. It also gave the reflections of the mirror a power that could reflect perfectly any image placed in front of it, even that of a ghosts.

Sentara was looking at herself on the object. Sitting on a fashionable red stool, she talked as one of her clerics combed her hair with a brush.

Ara was quite honored given such a task. In fact, she felt comfortable having her mistress in front of her. She envied Sentara's hair as she worked it on with the comb. Her eyes would go up and down to marvel at the wonder craved in this woman's physique. It was an envy that came from a method of role modeling.

To Ara, her mistress was the epitome of all that was perfect for a woman. She had everything, beauty, power; a charisma that could drown out the hearts of the most powerful officials of the city, and wisdom on magic and the world that could make a wizard envious. In other words, she was blessed, blessed by her goddess itself, from the body to the mind. Sometimes she would pause once in a while to relish at the sight of her mistress's hair, her slender hand worked to comb those lines slowly.

Sentara placed her hand to her chin as she looked at her reflection on the mirror. She was thinking of many things for this night, most of them was about the issue on the orc hoard preparing for an invasion outside their city. The entire morning had been tedious enough to fatigue not only her magical and physical energies, but her fellow clerics and priests as well. She thought of them, fellow followers of Sune which were required to sleep in the temple commons for the time being due to the emergency at hand.

"Everybody seems to be busy today." Sentara made a comment as she looked forward to the mirror. "You should also get some rest too Ara, you'll soon need the strength tomorrow to prepare more potions and healing kits." Sentara turned her head to her back a bit to take a look at her lady-maid for the night which was also one of the clerics of Sune who had helped in the preparations that morning. Sentara had allowed fellow clerics to accompany her in the bedchambers to establish good rapport with them. Ara was her favorite. She was a hardworking cleric of Sune who never asked questions about her mistress's commands. It had been a year since the lady had become both her friend and her servant in the temple.

"The situation must be dire indeed mistress. For the temple to be preparing healing materials the entire morning really is tedious." Ara kept combing Sentrara's hair as she made the reply. Her tone was casual and modest enough to know her place in the bedchamber.

"Indeed it is. But Corylon has stood far greater foes than orcs; one was that invasion from the northmen. I hope the mages at the Twilight Tower can stop this huge shadow plaguing our future." Sentara was now placing both her fingers on the table, her face turning from bored to serious.

Ara noticed this and flinched for a while. She rolled her eyes down to look grave. "I'm also scared about the outcome. I was but a child at that battle against the northmen, the results of that battle had a huge effect on the once peaceful city of Corylon."

Sentara mustered up a smile to cheer the cleric up. "That is why we must be strong at all costs. We must be ready to help our beloved home against such beasts. Oh if only all of Faerun would follow Sune's path of love, we wouldn't have wars and battles which shake the planet's core that much."

Ara didn't know what to say from her mistress's comment so she continued on combing the high-priestess's hair.

Sentara could feel the disturbance welling in the cleric's mind. Ara's actions were getting a bit clumsy and slow. She could feel the cleric stopping once in a while in combing her hair. She paused for a moment, letting a few seconds slip by without any of them saying a word.

"Your sister seems to be a promising youth Ara." Sentara spoke to her as she placed her palm on her chin and looking at the mirror with a smile.

This statement surprised Ara, for she never thought of the fact about her sister coming into their topic. "I am honored to hear that from you mistress. I do hope she will become a good cleric of Sune soon." She gulped silently as if her mistress couldn't hear her nervousness.

Sentara was aware of it so she let the topic slide out of hand. "Oh, and by the way, did you hear anything coming from Gustav Gonghammer today?" She asked a pointless question to sway their talk to something else. It was all girl talk. As a matter of fact, this is one of the reasons why Sentara was so revered in the city. Not only was she a role model, but she was also very good at establishing rapport to the people no matter how lowly their class was. There were even gossips about Sentara walking on the streets of Corylon, teaching the beggars and their children about proper hygiene. Once in a while, she would visit the streets, probably escaping from her guards and converse with anybody she could find. Sentara found it as something that of an adventure, and an important aspect for the prosperity of Corylon.

"I heard he got tongue tied when you….errr.." Ara got too careless with her words she dilated her eyeballs and pouted to show to her mistress that she had acted out of control all of a sudden.

To her surprise, she found her mistress giggling. Sentara raised her head to stare at her subordinate with an amused look.

"I have to admit, it was pretty bold of him when he said about the two of us not being able to meet again." Sentara giggled.

"Well he is pretty afraid about the outcome after all Miss Sentara."

"More like desperate." Sentara turned to look at herself in the mirror once again and giggled. Ara giggled back.

They were both having a good time as Sentara talked on about Gustav's adventures and misadventures in Faerun. Even Ara could glance at the hint that Sentara, her mistress was actually falling for the man. These sent a shiver on her spine, the two were the best couple matched by Corylon itself. And even though she felt that little speck of envy, she was very well pleased from the fact that a rightful person was taking the heart of her mistress.

She blessed Sentara deep in her mind. She could no longer hear her mistress chattering and gibbering. She was deeply entranced from the imagination of the lovely pairing of the two greatest role models of Corylon.

It would've been the best night for the two if it wasn't for the loud ringing of the city's alarm bell heard.

Sentara quickly stood up from her stool. Her movement was so fast that it caught her subordinate by surprise. Ara quickly placed her hands away from her mistress' hair, releasing the comb from her lovely tangles.

"That was the alarm bell ringing!" Sentara stood up worriedly. There was something wrong. She felt it. Her heart began to pound fast that she could hear her own beating. She had now forgotten all about Gustav and the lovely talk she had with her subordinate. She ran to the terrace as fast as she could to take a look at the commotion happening at the city. Unraveling the smooth blue curtains that covered the terrace, Sentara stopped and stared at the horror found a few miles away from their temple. The Twilight Tower was on fire.

Black smoke rose from all edges of the tower. It was a hellish sight. Lighting and explosion blurted out of nowhere from the area, probably from the potions that had exploded on the catastrophe. Stones and support columns tumbled down and collapsed to the grounds, each contact sending forth booming frissons to her ears. There was only one guess. A magical battle had happened here. But how could somebody lay waste to such a powerful structure that was dwelled by the five most powerful mages in Corylon? Sentara turned her attention to the rest of the city. People on the streets were running, heading towards the inferno carrying buckets of water so that they could help with the extinguishing of the disaster. She could see the town patrol running in all corners, giving orders to their elements, carrying ladders and more buckets for the fire.

"Ready the clerics. We're going to have a busy night!" Sentara quickly ordered her subordinate with a wave of her right arm. Ara then hurried forth. She was already rushing towards the stairs before her mistress had given the order.

"Aye mistress!" Sentara replied fast.

Sentara turned to look at another glance of the Twilight Tower. It was hopeless. Even if a rain would appear, it would do so little as to extinguish the fire, for the Twilight Tower was already on ruin. She then turned back to put on her red robes of Sune and hurried forth towards the stairs.

--

Morak stood on the center of the bloody room. Bodies of the mages were splattered all over the place, some of them sprawled in the floor like ragged dolls, their remains scattered all around as they lie mutilated on the ruined room of the Twilight Tower. Some of the body parts were splattered on the ceiling of the room. And blood dripped down to the ground as gravity pulled the red liquid over.

Astral Kebleen, Archmage of the great tower lay in a supine position, traces of deep wounds and slices shown on his anatomy as he pointed a finger to the great leader of the Deathsong Hoard.

"You, what are you?" Astral's face filled with terror and shock as he asked the deadly creature in front of him with a dying expression. There were spasms of blood gurgling out of his mouth as he mustered his courage to look strong, at least for his last moment face to face with Morak.

Boragus silently stood at the back of Morak Deathsong. The tattered robes that covered his entire body made him look like death to the eyes of the dying archmage. Astral yelped like a squirrel as Boragus stood there waiting.

"Oh? And what's this? I thought the famed archmage of the Twilight Tower would be equipped with lore enough to reach the spelljammer's boundaries?" Morak gave a big grin, his arms dangling down to the ground since he did not want to wet himself more from all the bloodshed he had done previously. "A new day has come! And tomorrow my armada will relish itself as a homeland is secured for the Deathsong Hoard, here in your beloved city. And soon the world will know of Corylon's…or should I say….Deathsong Keep's power in military might."

Morak gave his final silent and confident gesture, boasting proudly of the dreams for his beloved armada. He closed his eyes and relished on the imagination itself, and as he continued to boast of his plans to the archmage in his feet, of tales of future goals and achievements he would do, of the rise of the Deathsong, of the creation of an empire. These were all dreams that Morak had longed for even before he had commandeered the spelljamming vessel SUCNA and crash landed in Faerun four years later, and Morak was happy that he was able to speak of his plans to a powerful person living in the realms.

But Astral was no longer listening. He had mustered his last energies to create a communication spell in delivering the warning to his fellow mages about the coming of the Deathsong Hoard. It would've been his one final act of justice for the good of goodly folks to deliver such an important message to the realms. But Astral forgot one thing; these were spelljammers he was facing. And for some unknown reason the communication spell never gave way. He died thinking he had made one final sacrifice. And as the archmage became obviously lifeless, the orc warlord spat on his ragged corpse.

Morak Deathsong turned his back on the body letting himself stare at Boragus, his minion face to face. There was a hint of annoyance on that visage of his, probably because he was disappointed when he realized that the archmage wasn't listening to him. And Boragus couldn't help but shiver a little bit in witnessing the fury of this warrior. "Muster the others, tell them to proceed with the plan. The assault will happen four hours from now."

Boragus gave a bow to his master and suddenly disappeared in the shadows, leaving Morak and the massacre in the room alone.

--

Gustav Gonghammer came out of the barracks to take a look at the huge commotion that had happened outside. The Twilight Tower had fallen, possibly had a relationship as to the orcs besieging their beloved city.

He took a look at the walls, which the barracks was built close to. The troops were all looking at the disaster. He could even see some of the patrols going down the stairs, trying their best to help. But the truth was that it was useless. The tower was located 10 kilometers away from their location. There was nothing these soldiers could do but endanger their beloved city Corylon by running away from their posts.

He never thought the orcs being this well organized before. Such an act was uncommon for a hoard to do. He'd heard about mysterious orc hoards powerful enough to raid a kingdom during the Orcgate Wars, but never as well organized as this one. Perhaps the orcs had planned the destruction of the Twilight Tower from the beginning? And after that, perhaps they planned to sack the city without its best mages to assist its defense. That would be a very dangerous assumption from him. _Perhaps I am just overreacting to the situation?_ Gustav thought to himself.

His thinking was put to a stop when one of his lieutenants shouted for him.

"General! The assault is almost coming!" Gustav recognized the soldier as Lieutenant Davion. The soldier was well equipped for battle, resembling the discipline of Gustav's guidance to his troops. He wore a breast plate with a chain-mail beneath it. The lieutenant was equipped with a short sword and a tower shield on both his hands. "Sir, my men are now awaiting orders!"

"Close the gates, get your troops in line and put them behind the gate. Wait there and meet the enemy in case a breach occurs! Tell Captain Samuv to put his archers close to your formation, you're going to need assistance in taking up melee."

The lieutenant quickly went down the walls to call for his men without any further questions from his general. Gustav would've tried to call for two of his captains, but he noticed that the men were already placed in the behind the crenellations of the city walls. He took one last look at the field where a throng of orcs rushed in to the assault of the city's defenses. Their target was the gate. That was too predictable a move for the orcs. But nevertheless, despite the sudden advantage of tactics in his mind, he couldn't help but have second doubts in the number of the attacking force.

His heart beat fast as he saw the orc swarm close to the gates with stunning speed. Their archers and ballistae did good work at the attackers. 2 minutes passed, and the area close to the gate was filled with running or dead orcs and goblins. But the orc numbers were far too many, despite the corpses that lay on the field, more came in to take their place. One would fall, and two came back to reinforce their dead allies. Gustav breathed in deep as the orcs and goblins got themselves to the gate, their axes, spears and wooden rams carried by two to three orcs smashed at the wooden and metal bars with abandon.

"It's not gonna hold!!" Gustav heard one of his lieutenants on the walls scream.

Gustav also heard Captain Samuv scream a command. "Incoming!"

The gate could now be seen thumping back and forth from the ram's impact. Its motion was like the beating of the heart, the only difference was that it wouldn't hold, and it looked as if it would give way to the pressure soon.

Then all of a sudden a blinding flash was seen. A huge explosion erupted beside the gate as the fireball struck on the middle of the orc attackers close to the construct. Gustav saw the orcs run away from the area, their bodies aflame, their skin burned, their screams were of death, and soon they would topple down the ground dead. He turned to look at a tower on the east. A black-robed wizard came into his sight. Gustav gave a silent thanks to his god Tyr for the luck they had on the battle. There were wizards that didn't belong to the Twilight Tower Association, and gave their life for the welfare of Corylon….and gold.

His heart leaped with joy as he saw two more wizards riding fast with their horses, coming from the city streets to aid in the defense of their home. Their hands glowing with grey and blue light as they shot their magic to the city gate while riding.

The two wizards who were on horses conjured a spell to make the bars of the gate harder. Infusing it with hard clay made from magic. The gate's beating slowed, but it didn't stop, more were still coming for the attack, and it seemed as if the orcs were determined to break down the construct. Their determinations were put to waste as another fireball erupted beside the gate.

The orcs now broken from two consecutive fireball explosions began to waver. They hesitated to go near the gate, and looked for other means in breaching the city. Most of them circled the stone ramparts looking for a hole in that defense, but circling the walls was nothing but a waste of time for it only gave instance for the archers at the walkway to rain their deadly arrows at them.

Gustav gave his men a glorifying shout. "Come and do what you do best! For tonight Tyr is with us!" He then went down the walls and rushed to the command of his cavalry inside the city. These knights served as shock troops, in case a breach would occur, they would rush to the aid of the melee defenders inside city with their thundering charge from afar.

--

Grishnik coughed at the smoke that surrounded him. "Damn these mercenary wizards! I thought we've finished the magic threat in the Twilight Tower. But it seems some humans really live up to the service of gold!" He was talking to himself. The shock was too great for him when he witnessed the surprise of the fireball erupting close to him at the gate. It was a good thing that he had prepared a fire resistance mantle for this attack, else he would've been barbecue scro by now.

"Nevertheless, Corylon will still fall this night" Grishnik placed his right palm to the gate, and gave out a twenty second incantation. It suddenly glowed with red light. "Magic clay and hardened lead will not stop the Deathsong Hoard in the road to its glory" He didn't mind the burning orcs running to the fields behind him. They were pathetic anyway. Their purpose served as nothing more than fodder for the big plan to come into action. The archers and wizards obviously weren't paying any attention to him. They focused their attacks on the orc masses that served as easy targets behind him. After all, how could one unit member in the hoard make a difference in this assault?

The gate gave out a huge white light. For a second, the defenders risked a chance to stare at the wonder. Their wonder was turned into a nightmare, as ten tons of hardened city gate exploded into oblivion. Propelled by magic, the gate flew forward to the city, crushing the defenders that waited inside.

--

Gustav's eyes widened in horror and shock as he watched the great gate of Corylon explode all of a sudden. Then he regained his calm and began calculating moves for the defense. At least for a while, he had a hunch that things weren't going according to the defense plans. He noticed many officers bark out commands to the shaken troops beside the gate. Most of the soldiers were weary and dazed from the sudden explosion that occurred, but thanks to training and discipline many of them were able to fall into a line. The commanding officers beside the gate despite the dusts and splinters that messed their uniforms tried to look their best to boost the troop's morale.

Gustav steadied his horse, tightened the grip on his lance and took a look at the company of cavalry that he commanded. This was the trump card Corylon's defenders had. Serving as shock troops the cavalry was fast and destructive enough to rip a part in the enemy's defenses. Their sharp lances could split an entire line into two. Their full plated armor defended them well against incoming blows, not to mention their advantage in height due to their horses; this made them an almost invincible pride in Corylon's defenders. But the most destructive power they held was their charge, at almost unstoppable ramming speed Corylon's cavalry would be quick and destructive enough to surprise any unknowing enemy.

Gustav watched the onslaught occurring close to the gates. Orcs poured in outstanding numbers, they bore no formation, their discipline and finesse overcome by their savage nature.

Corylon's dazed defenders on the ground also fought. They came readied in defense position, preparing to intercept any incoming push from the orcs. They were mostly footmen, armed with large shields, swords, axes and spears. Most of them wore the regular issue given by the military of Corylon which consisted of light to medium plated armor with skull caps or full helms. They wore tabards of different colors beyond their breast plates, hiding their armor from the loose cotton cloth. These colors identified the company that they belonged to.

Right now, it seemed as if the foot-soldiers of Corylon were made of a disorganized lot. Their lines consisted of troops who wore tabards of different colors, their military discipline being a huge factor in getting along with their comrades from different groups.

Gustav noticed some of his officers giving commands to the archers that were stationed at the ground to fall back. After the bowmen were far from melee combat, they started loading their bows and began shooting at the orcs swarming at the gateway.

Hundreds of orcs in the process died, many of Corylon's defenders fell too, but their death ration was nothing compared to the casualties the attackers suffered.

To Gustav, it seemed as if the gateway could not hold for that long. He became aware of the fatigue welling up in the ranks of Corylon's defenders. The orcs were pouring in through endless numbers. Many of the brutes died, but more came to take their place.

The walls also weren't faring too well. Ladders had been raised up, and many orcs could now be seen in the walkways doing melee against human troops. Some of the archers had retreated to the towers. Many switched to melee and assisted the swordsmen to fend off the orc infestation.

Gustav realized that now was the best time to release Corylon's shock troops. He gave out a battle cry, raised his lance to the air, pointed it forward, then charged to the gateway. His knights followed the charge, their hooves of their horses making the earth rumble.

To the defenders, the cavalry charge was truly dramatic and heartening. It boosted up their courage, sending them into a fanatical zeal of pride and hope.

To the attackers, it was a nightmare. The thunderous booms vibrated their brains. This was what the orc hoard had feared off that much, the ace of the human's military strength, the bane of almost every army.

--

Grishnik stood there silently, black tattered robes covering his entire body. His presence ignored by the brutish orcs that came charging inside the city with bloodlust. He was at the gateway, close to melee battle that occurred inside the city, but far enough for him to even get a proper fight against a footman. He was well protected by the orc multitude that was swarming in his front.

He really didn't mind if he was unable to join the melee slaughter. He wasn't looking for a knight or a footman to fight against. His target was a special one. Scanning the towers and walls for someone suspicious, he took careful notice at his invisible prey.

A fireball erupted at the walls, cooking the orc invaders above. Grishnik saw many of the burning brutes jump off, making their death quick and painless. _Or maybe they didn't know where their footing was._ Grishnik couldn't help but chuckle at the idiocy these creatures had.

They looked pathetic like that, running off in circles as the red element burned them, screaming pathetically for help right now when they were screaming arrogantly for a battle before.

The black robed soldier brushed his thoughts of amusement away. His prey had been spotted. Noticing the mercenary mage that created the fireball at the walls Grishnik performed and incantation as he locked his eyes on the target. He raised his hands. Blue light glowed in his palms, finishing his spell at last.

An instant after that a lightning bolt came down from the skies, its deadly path headed towards the defender's mercenary mage. The huge electrical bolt connected, blowing the mages body away. Skin and bones flew as they were hacked apart by the powerful magic attack. It seemed as if the mages body had exploded from the inside.

The mercenary wizard wasn't the only target affected. The lightning bolt was strong enough to jut through its target and continue to the stone walkways of the wall, piercing stone and dazing soldiers that were close to the mage.

Grishnik closed his eyes and gave a deep breath to relish his kill. "Ayiyiyiyi!!" He gave out a fanatical war cry as he stood on the gateway with bliss. So consumed was he on the ecstasy of spell battle that he never noticed the orcs that were once fighting on his front run away from the gates.

When he learned of the incident it was already too late. "Where are you all going? Press on infidels! The fight is almost won. Their wizards will never be a match for me!" His gaze was directed outside the city. Disappointed at the number of orcs that had routed, he gritted his teeth in annoyance. Then he heard a familiar sound. He turned his head back only to notice Gustav's spear pointed several inches away from his eyes.

The charge came fast, skewering his head. Grishnik was dead in an instant.


End file.
